


Bingo: "Emergency in the middle of the night"

by taylor_tut



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: David & Gwen Friendship (Camp Camp), Fever, Gen, Gwen-centric (Camp Camp), Hurt/Comfort, Protective Gwen (Camp Camp), Sick David (Camp Camp), Sickfic, Whump, cameron campbell being an okay dude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:07:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21635233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: A fic from my tumblr for the following prompt: Omg, I would love n2 (emergency in the middle of the night) with David from Camp Camp! 🙀 Maybe one where he has already been sick the day before, but his fever spikes and Gwen notices and tries to handle it but wakes up the entire camp in the process... maybe even Cameron Campell tries to help? Just want everyone to be worried/wanting to help David feel better while he is super out of it. Thank you!!!!!
Comments: 1
Kudos: 123





	Bingo: "Emergency in the middle of the night"

Gwen had allowed David to sleep through dinner—she imagined that he probably wasn’t hungry, anyway, as he’d spent most of the morning and afternoon vomiting and sleeping—but he’d promised that he’d check in with her one more time before she went to sleep, and he hadn’t done that yet. For a while, she’d tried her best to give him his space, knowing from a few bouts of really bad cramps how awful it felt to be sick at camp. She hadn’t batted an eye when 6:00 rolled into 7, then 8. David needed his rest, after all, and if he was feeling well enough to sleep, she wanted to let him. 

She sent him a text. 

Gwen [8:03]: u up yet? feeling any better?

Gwen [8:33]: text me when ur awake. i’m gonna wait up til i hear back 

She’d put the campers to bed and then waited through the first hour where anyone who would try to sneak out (Max) might still be awake, then fixed herself a cup of tea and changed into her pyjamas, and by then, it was nearly 11:00. She checked her phone: still not a peep from David. Now, it was beginning to worry her, because David was nothing if not punctual and far too polite to keep her waiting on his response at this unreasonable hour. Her phone informed her that he, indeed, hadn’t read the text yet (David WOULD be the kind of madman with the social confidence to leave read receipts on), and that was the final straw. She pulled a jacket over her tank top and grabbed the keys from their hook, headed for David’s cabin. 

First, she knocked lightly on the door. 

“David?” she called patiently, lowly, so as not to startle him. Nothing. “David,” she called a little louder, “are you awake? I just want to check on you before I go to bed.” When she still got no reply, she sighed. “I’m coming in, okay?” She fumbled ith the keys for a long minute in the dark. “God, I hope David sleeps with clothes on.” 

When she opened the door, she wasn’t prepared for what she found, and she probably shouted his name a little louder than she’d intended to. She wasn’t sure; she couldn’t really hear much over the sound of her blood pumping in her own ears because David was lying on the ground, the glass of water she’d put next to his bed shattered next to him and his hand and arm bleeding from where he’d clearly tried to clean it up, deathly pale and unconscious. For a horrible, irrational second, she thought that maybe he was dead, and that was what made her apparently scream so loud that it woke pretty much everyone in the camp EXCEPT for David. 

“Oh, my God, David,” she breathed, dropping to her knees next to him, being very careful of the glass. “Wake up. You’ve got to look at me.” As she turned him into her lap, she could feel the heat radiating off his body. This morning, the fever had been low-grade enough that she hadn’t felt it necessary to use a thermometer, just a quick hand pressed to his forehead and a solemn nod, a, “yep, you’re running warm,” and instructions to go back to bed with a box of juice and a glass of water. She was sure that this was NOT a low-grade fever anymore. 

“Gwen?” She’d never heard Max’s voice so mirthless and concerned, and she didn’t have to turn around to know that he was hesitating in the doorway, likely too terrified to come any further. 

“Get Cameron,” she demanded, but another voice cut her off. 

“Already here,” Cameron Campbell, David’s hero and the person Gwen really fucking couldn’t stand, announced. 

She didn’t know what she expected. Something fearful, something cowardly, something selfish. In any other situation, she might have even WANTED it, because then she would be one step away from proving to David that idol worship was worthless because all people, at their core, were flawed and self-serving and shitty, none moreso than the camp’s founder. 

“Do something,” she begged instead. 

And, to her shock, he did. 

First, he put a gentle hand on her back, simultaneously ushering her out of the way and reassuring her that he was here. 

Second, he brushed glass out of the way with his bare hands so he could kneel next to David, pressing a large hand to his forehead with a frown. 

Third, he fucking handled it, just like Gwen hadn’t been able to. 

“Kids,” he said calmly, turning around to look them in their terrified, wide eyes with a tone that suggested not a hint of panic, “go get all the ice you can carry from the mess hall. Put it in garbage bags.” 

An army of tiny gremlins who all secretly and shockingly cared very deeply for David wordlessly hustled away to fulfill the request. 

“Do you know when the last time he took ibuprofen was?” he asked, “and how many he took?” 

Gwen shook her head. “I gave him two this morning,” she said, “but he probably didn’t keep them down.”

He nodded. “He’s always been like this. Resistant to medications and prone to high fevers. I’m a little surprised that he never grew out of it.”

Gwen felt her heart rate slow. David had been through this, and someone who’d gotten him through it before was here, now. He didn’t seem terrified so maybe she didn’t have to be, either. 

“He’ll be okay?” she asked, wincing at the fact that the meek, tiny, shaky voice had come out of her and not one of the campers. 

“He always is,” Cameron reassured. As she helped him heft David back into his bed, cleaning up his hand and watching the lines of pain in his face smooth out once the campers came back with ice, then finally waking up enough to take four ibuprofen, a piece of bread, and a glass of water, she found herself reevaluating some of her biases and doing what she never thought she would—believing Cameron Campbell. 


End file.
